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For hours now, the young man had pushed and pulled, clawing and stabbing at his “father” who was, unbelievably, still alive despite his numerous wounds. Crimson dripped from his claws hovering above the mutilated body, searching for any unblemished flesh through which he could plunge them once more. As his claws flashed through the air, severing the murderous young man's remaining tethers to innocence, Amatsu recalled everything that had brought him to that exact moment.
Inside a dilapidated hut at the furthermost edge of an otherwise ordinary village, came the sounds of a woman's harsh voice raised in anger, coupled with the pained shrieks of a child.
A child stumbled from the entrance of the structure, his unclothed back bleeding freely from multiple lash marks. This was undoubtedly the same child whose cries had punctured the early summer air, his mother chasing after his retreating, malnourished form. Heedless of the arms he threw up in an attempt to ward off more blows, the enraged woman backhanded him, her coarse, bony knuckles splitting the tender flesh of his sunken cheek as he fell to the ground from the force of her assault.
The villagers, overhearing the mother's fanatical ravings on numerous occasions, they realized that the deranged woman was convinced that her adopted son was a changeling. Whether a previous event was responsible for her belief, or she was simply caught up in some twisted delusion none could say.
The boy had no real name, and only received the vicious slurs that were given by his parents. The boy would go for weeks at a time without being addressed in any fashion. Despite the relative safety such isolation offered, it was hard for the young boy to bear because, like any child, he craved the approval, love and attention of his parents. Unfortunately, all such attention was colored by violence and cruelty. When he was addressed, it was often by some crass insult intended to remind him of how unwanted his existence was.
The family didn't have much, due to his father spending most of his earning on drink, and his mother spending the rest on frivolities such as make up or combs for her hair. As such, the young boy was treated like a burden, and any food or clothing he received was given grudgingly, or not at all. His mother in particular took measures to deprive the young child of basic needs as often as she could.
Once, after discovering that the boy had been feeding a stray dog with the scraps of his dinner, the cold harpy had forced him feed the dog to death as punishment. Sobbing with a heart-rending expression twisting his pinched features, the malnourished boy had shoved piece after piece of meat into the poor creature's mouth while his mother held the struggling pup and watched, the sharp angles of her face tight with apathy.
Only when the dog's body had finally given out, choking as it was stuffed to excess, did his mother relent, shoving the limp, distended body into his lap. Handing him a small blade, the boy's mother had harshly snapped, "Since that mongrel has eaten more than your fair share, you'll look to it for dinner this night or go without."
And with that, glassy-eyed child started to cut the dead animal's belly open, gathering the partially digested and bloody scraps of meat into his fist before consuming them. It wasn't the first time he had been forced to eat his food uncooked, nor would it be the last, but this act numbed his emotions even more as his stomach twisted violently at the vulgar act his mother had made him commit.
Another time, the boy's father had come home angry, with a wild look to him. The boy had tried to sneak out before his father could see him, but didn't move fast enough. The beast had broken his son's arm, slammed him into the wall of the hut and beaten the child senseless.
A silent spectator of his own life, Amatsu remembered every scar laid upon his soul by those meant to protect and love him.
The weeks he spent chained outside during the day, his skin covered in angry sun blisters from the scorching heat, all for accidentally looking his mother in the eye.
The nights he spent bound hand and foot, forced to lay in his own urine if he couldn't hold it until the morning, and the punishments for failing to do so.
His mother was the village miko, and even the villagers shunned the frail boy like a leper.
The afternoons he spent sitting in the doorway of the hut, watching for his father, moans of lust filtering to him from where his mother entertained a traveling monk who frequented their village.
The afternoon the boy fell asleep at his post, and was woken by his father's shouts as he discovered his wife's infidelity. That was the night he spent listening to his mother's screams as his father beat her nearly to death, and the morning after, he himself was punished for concealing the trysts from his father by having wasabi powder rubbed in his eyes.
Every hour was filled with never-ending agony and terror.
In his twelfth year, a badly bruised and beaten he had finally fled from his home after his mother had untied him in the morning. After two hours of running, exhaustion and his injuries had forced the undernourished youth to collapse on the side of the road. Limbs trembling and breath rasping harshly through cracked and bleeding lips, the young boy was uncaring of the possible dangers in the area as the reality of his freedom settled through him. As the sky darkened, the weak boy had looked up, watching as the stars blinked into existence. He spent the entirety of the night awake, gazing towards the heavens as the moon slid across the velvety night.
As dawn approached, a smile filled with tentative hope crossed his lips for the first time that he could recall. The battered youth sat up slowly and clasped his hands in front of him, staring directly at the fading sliver of moon that had kept him company through the long night.
A soft whisper reached made it passed his lips, marking the first time he had ever spoken without screaming in pain, and his innocent words revealed his heart's desire.
"I know that I am unworthy to ask for anything... but if I could have one wish, I... I'd want to be forgiven. I'd want to be forgiven for whatever I did to deserve my parent's anger and hatred." Tears crawled down their familiar tracks on his sunken cheeks, and his gentle voice cracked on them, "I wish someone...anyone... would forgive me."
Light crested the horizon, as he spoke, washing the last remnants of the moon from the sky, and the boy rubbed at his eyes, wiping away the evidence of his sadness. It was a new day, his first away from the hatred that had been his home for twelve years, and the small boy was determined to never return.
Fate, however, was unconcerned with his plans: as he went to stand, a bone-chilling growl echoed from the trees behind him. In moments he was pinned by an okami youkai, claws digging painfully into his bony shoulders as menacing fangs lunged for his vulnerable throat.
Sharp fangs dug through tender flesh, miraculously missing his jugular vein even as powerful jaws tightened, crushing the boy's frail neck bit by bit. In the same instant, a large, spear gored into the large youkai's side, causing it to release its hold on the boy's throat.
It was knocked into a nearby tree and, rather than stay and fight for it's kill, the okami youkai turned tail and disappeared into the forest dripping blood as it went. Soon after, man with dark, depth-less eyes, dressed head to toe in demon slayer's garb. Upon seeing that Amatsu was still alive, although not conscious, the man looked torn between pursuing the fleeing youkai and tending to the young boy's injuries.
Swearing vibrantly at losing his prey, the slayer picked up Amatsu's limp body and carried it to a nearby stream, where he set up camp and inspected the damage evident on the young boy. After tending to the punctures on his neck, the slayer did a cursory glance at the multiple bruises, scars and unhealed lacerations covering the small child's body. The man's face darkened with anger, and he moved to the other side of the fire from Amatsu. He believed Amatsu did something to deserve every one of his injuries. He felt he should have let Amatsu die.
Hours passed, and the moon was reaching its zenith when bruised eyelids finally fluttered open, a wheeze of pain signaling to the slayer of the boy's waking. Glaring at the prone body, the slayer spoke, his deep voice gravelly and filled with contempt. "Can you speak, child?"
Startled by the voice to his left, Amatsu turned his head sharply, wincing at the stabbing pain that resulted from his movements. Placing a shaking hand tenderly to the bandages at his throat, Amatsu remembered the man's question and tried to answer him... but all that came out was a coarse gurgle.
Pushing himself slowly into a sitting position, he tried again, his eyes widening as he realized he couldn't speak at all. Movement across from him drew his frightened gaze, and Amatsu froze as the slayer's larger calloused hands roughly shoved his own aside, prodding none too gently at the bandages over the wounds. Frowning, the slayer grunted, before leveling him with an annoyed glare.
"I saw the bruises, whelp. Your body is covered with them, and I can only imagine what you could have done to deserve them." Standing, the slayer moved over to his pack to sit again, leaving the mute boy to his own devices. Without looking back at the child, the man continued harshly, "I'm guessing you ran away from home, right?"
Amatsu bowed his head, unable to answer the man with more than a nod, who couldn't even explain the truth to his judgmental savior.
"Well, maybe you'll learn a lesson from this. There are orphans all across this land that would be glad to have the same parents you've so ungratefully run from." Piercing eyes moved to Amatsu's arms, where several scars and bruises were quite visible, even in the flickering light of the fire. Grunting as he pinned the youth with yet another withering glare, he continued to berate the boy, convinced he was a delinquent getting his comeuppance.
"From what I can tell, you seem to cause your folks quite a bit of trouble on a regular basis. Like the trouble you've caused me, making me lose my lead on that okami. Because of your selfish actions, that damn youkai will probably attack a village, or some innocent traveler. They'll die because I wasn't able to exterminate the beast today due to having to save your sorry hide." He smiled an ugly, malicious smile. "Perhaps I should have let the wolf have you, hm?"
The slayers voice had steadily risen with his ire, his disgust with Amatsu lashing through the darkness and suffocating the small child. Still the man did not relent, and what little light that had been alive in Amatsu's eyes was extinguished with each of this stranger's cruel words. "You'll be lucky if your parents take you back," the slayer scoffed, abruptly standing, prowling closer without turning his hard gaze from the wilting boy, "but, nonetheless, I suggest you make haste back home come morning. I won't forgive you should I find out that okami killed an innocent while I was wasting my time with filth like you."
The slayer closed the distance between them, crouching until his face was inches apart from Amatsu's. When he spoke, his coarse voice was hardly stronger than a whisper, but as intimidating as a seasoned warrior's silence during battle. "And should we cross paths again, know this: I won't hesitate to remove the burden of your worthless life."
The next morning Amatsu stumbled back to his home, his eyes empty and dead as he willingly returned to his own personal hell.
More years of torture came , and finally it came the day when Amatsu turned 16... The day he slaughtered his parents.
The teenager carefully laid his plans. His mother had begun sleeping with the monk again, and this time he was determined not to be punished for her indiscretion. After rooting through the monk's satchel, Amatsu found the herbs and incense his mother burned to make patients sleepy. Lighting several bundles in various corners of the hut, he waited until he saw the smoke begin to fill the hut before running to find his father in the fields.
Locating him quickly, Amatsu's eyes lit with mad delight at his father's furious expression, even as he cowered away from the enraged man after relaying his mother's current activities. Following him home, Amatsu waited outside as his father charged into the hut to find the two lovers passed out naked in the middle of the hut.
Hearing his father's intake of breath that always preceded the beginning of violence, Amatsu's face filled with desperate expectation. However, moments passed in silence, an empty stillness in which the young teen heard only his own rapid heartbeat and a muffled thud from the interior of the hut. Trembling, a dirty hand reached out to pull back the curtain flap from the doorway, and swallowing his nervousness, Amatsu leaned inside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the smoky gloom as he looked for his parents.
When he finally located them, the teen began to shake harder as he moved into the room, protectively covering his face so that the smoke wouldn't affect him too. There were three bodies huddled on the floor in various poses, eyes wide and staring in their pale faces. His mother was leaning against the entrance to the bedroom, her kimono bunched at her waist, leaving her pale small, pale beasts exposed. It looked like the monk had been crawling for the entrance, for his body was in the center of the room on his stomach, one arm outstretched in front of him, his eyes rolled back into his head. The most disturbing though was his father's body, still convulsing on the floor where it had fallen next to the dead monk.
Blood-shot eyes were wide with pain as tears, snot and saliva ran down his face, mingling together with the sweat beading across his quickly bleaching skin. His father reached for him, fingers twitching in pain as the toxins in the room worked through his system with deadly intent. Amatsu shrunk away from the gasping man in terror, cringing both from the hand that had beaten him on numerous occasions and the reality of what he had done. It took him mere moments to realize he had burned the wrong herbs, and in doing so murdered his mother and her lover.
Amatsu's panicked mind fractured at the realization, and a mad light entered his eyes. Staring into his father's face with a manic determination, the youth quickly gathered the remaining herbs and stamped them out, rushing to air the hut out least he too fall prey to the poisonous vapors.
Once a strong breeze was filtering through the small hut, Amatsu returned to his father's side, nervous anticipation quivering through his body as he took in the older man's prone state. Taking his father's dagger in hand, he roughly drove it through the man's ribs, quickly withdrawing from striking distance in case the vicious male was faking and decided to retaliate. After a moment of nothing other than a moist grumbling from the still form of his father, Amatsu crept back to his side, his eyes shadowed from his father's wide-eyed gaze.
Amatsu addressed his father directly for the first time he could remember.
"Goodbye, father."
The teen had then spent the last few hours slowly killing his father. After the third hour Amatsu had disguarded the dagger in favor of his own hands where he had found long claws had taken shape over his nails. Hours later, he had once more freed his hands from his father's body, licking his claw’s blood-slick edges with relish. With every effort-filled thrust of his claws, Amatsu's soul darkened, losing the last vestiges of light and purity he had managed to retain throughout the years of his torment. His skin steadily turned ashen, and from his back he sprouted dragonic wings and a tail. Upon his head a pair of wicked horns grew from the base of his skull to wrap around his temples. On his skin, scales took root and spread across his back, arm legs and face. His light blue eyes darkened to a nightmarish black. His smile pierced the night and what had once been flat even teeth slowly changed into fangs.
Amatsu slowly murdered his adoptive father, along with the last remnants of anything good within him.

After Amatsu had left his village, in expected utter ruin; Amatsu had devoted himself to learning everything there was to know about his new appearance and nature that had been awoken with it, such as his sudden lust for testing his abilities. He quickly found that he had an incredible increase in his sense of smell. Aghast at all the scents he could perceive now that he was out of the initial shock of his body's change. He now understood why demons attacked human villages, if not to simply rid the area of the human's offensive stench. Humans were also very loud. He couldn't believe how he had been able to sleep before when he had been a "human." Now he found them to be nearly deafening. He had moved to the wilds finding it much kinder on his new senses.

The first task he had focused on was learning to use his tail, as it was very odd to suddenly acquire a new appendage, much like an infant elephant plays with its trunk, Amatsu also had to learn how to control his tail. While he learned this, he also learned that his claws and also his sharp taloned feet where excellent for bringing down prey, though bringing down a meager deer, hardly constituted the rewards he felt when he killed humans. Their screams and cries of pain and anguish, reminded him of his own when he had lived his false life as a human, and so felt pleasure in bringing that same pain to other humans as he had endured by the hands of his "parents" and village. Plus. he enjoyed a human's taste. It was not long after his second kill that he decided that humans would be his main source of food.

With his new awakened appearance, Amatsu found that he was now much stronger and faster than he had been before. He quickly noticed this while he had been deep in the forest, a bear had scented him out and tracked him down, their brief interaction had ended after the bear had left its midsection exposed while it had swung its powerful claws toward him. Seeing his chance, Amatsu had darted in and torn open its abdomen, and sprayed its innards across the dirt. In pained shock, the bear had no time to react before Amatsu had quickly climbed up its back and wrapping his arms about its thick neck, he quickly strangled the bear to death.

Another chore in itself was learning how to manipulate his wings. They were very awkward, once he had gotten their basic movement down he had learned that they were very good when taking out creatures at a farther distance, along with his tail offering him a farther reach when he attacked. Of course he was easily able to deduce that his wings would serve a greater purpose than to simply be used as a shield and hacking tools, their main purpose was of enabling flight.

Despite much trial and error, a few broken bones (he found that he had a remarkably fast healing speed) and at first merely learning to glide from place to place. Amatsu had learned to eventually fly and in a short turn of weeks learned that he was a natural and tested himself by trying out many aerial acrobatics as well as attacking from the air and landing upon prey from above.

Over time Amatsu had learned that aside from his new appendages he also had additional abilities, such as fire breathing

... TBC